Stuck Behind Enemy Lines
by delen2000
Summary: Maybe I just like seeing Coulson suffer, he is so good at it! A mission that was supposed to go easy, goes really sideways on Coulson and Skye. They have to wait hidden until the others can get them out. Skoulson, Coulskye, Skyeson, Coulson/Skye


Chapter 1

Skye sighed and banged her head up against the inside door of the storage room they had found and locked to keep the Hydra people from finding them. This was supposed to be easy, her and Coulson sneak in and she would download the Intel they need while simultaneously infecting them with software designed to destroy all of their files. In true Coulson fashion, everything went to plan until the very end, where they were discovered and a firefight broke out with Hydra shooting real bullets at them. Since Skye had designed the whole op, she had religiously poured over the blueprints of the compound and she knew where she was going to get them away. They darted around some corners and through a maze of hallways and gave Hydra the slip by dropping a couple of smoke bombs and a tear gas canister at the right times. Skye then found a heating duct she thought would get them far away, and they were able to relocate to what looked like an abandoned area of the compound. Coulson spotted a door in the corner and pulled her into the dark closet. They quietly shut the door locking it, Coulson retreated to the dark corner and Skye leaned with her forehead against the door trying to get her breath and just try to _think_.

She banged her head up against the door again, despite the soft noise it was making. She heard another soft noise behind her and she swung around quickly, even though the closet was too dark to see much. She whipped out her phone and scanned the area around her with the flashlight option, and promptly landed on Coulson's sweaty and obviously in pain face. With a gasp, she fell to her knees where he had sat, or what it looked like, fell to the floor, and placed the phone beside her thigh to give them some light, without shining it in his face, and freeing her hands.

"What's wrong? Were you hit?" She asked in a harsh whisper, her concern flowing through her words. He gave a sharp nod and gestured to his stomach with his hands. Hurriedly, she pulled off his jacket, his bullet proof vest and then laid him down on the floor and then focused on the clothing covering the area that she could see the blood spreading from. Swiftly, she unbuttoned his button-down shirt and parted it so he was still wearing it, but so that she could see the injury. Without ceremony she unbuckled his pants and yanked his undershirt up high enough to see what was going on. She clinically and searchingly ran her hands up his side and back, looking for an exit wound and not finding one. She then picked her phone back up and investigated the wound carefully. She poked around and even stuck her finger in slightly to see if she could feel the bullet, if it hadn't gone too far in.

"Are you feeling dizzy or faint? Is it hard to breathe or do you feel like anything else is wrong? Is your heart beating faster or something like that?" Jemma had taught her some first aid that was likely to be needed on missions, and gunshots were high on the list. As long as the patient wasn't shot in a really bad place, like nicked an artery or a lung, the patient should be made comfortable, given pain relief and the bleeding should be stopped.

"No, I feel a little weak and shaky, but that's to be expected." He said quietly.

Skye got up and took her phone searching her space for supplies. It was a supply closet, so at least they had luck on their side there. She found a box of feminine napkins in a stack mean to supply bathrooms and paper towels. There were some snack foods to supply a break room and even some medications that were in little packets to resupply a first aid kit somewhere in this section. Everything was dusty and Skye read the expiration dates on one of the packets, it was over three years old. She gathered everything into an empty box she found and hurried over to Coulson. The space he was in was not very large. The closet had three rows of shelving and space on either side of the ends to access them. The walkway, where Coulson was at, was maybe a nine by six area, enough room to bring a cart to load and unload supplies and that was about it.

She came directly to his side spilling all the contents out beside her and then organizing what she needed to, right next to her. She handed the phone to Coulson and ordered him to aim it where she needed it, and then competently began to unpack the pads from their box. She started to lay them across his body, where he was shot and even unpeeled the backs on the first layer so that the second layer, which she crisscrossed over the first, could stick more firmly. Then she took packaging tape and taped the whole dressing down tightly to his body and sealed it in to keep out dirt and germs. She handed him a can of soda and the aspirin she had found and took the phone back so that he could use his hands. While he propped himself up enough to pop the medicine into his mouth and take a drink of the soda she took the remaining items and started to place them up by the wall, next to Coulson's head. She sat down behind him and crossed her legs, Indian style, and waited for him to put his soda down on the ground beside him. She then grabbed him under the armpits and hauled with all her might to bring his head even with the space her legs provided. She folded her jacket up and tucked it under his head to make him more comfortable and spread his jacket over his upper body like a blanket. She then rested her arms next to his head, onto the top of her thighs and looked down at him.

He sighed a little and snuggled into the jacket for warmth. The floor wasn't too warm and the bullet wound, although not putting him into shock, wasn't helping with the temperature. When the meds wore off he probably would spike a low fever in response to the pain, he always had. Skye reached for his soda, took a drink and then poured some on a paper towel, and wiped at her hands to remove some of the blood that remained on her hands.

They sat in mostly silence, hoping that no one would find them in the next couple of minutes. When Skye thought enough time had gone by, at least a couple of hours had passed, which was enough time for a complete search of the building. It seemed as though the area they were in had been completely bypassed in the search. Really, no one would suspect they were in there. There were no footprints left on dusty floors, no finger prints left on any door handles as they hadn't used any to get in here, except the one on the door they were behind. There was little evidence that this room had been disturbed by them, let alone the surrounding area. She dug out her communicator, a specially designed walkie-talkie of sorts that Fitz had designed and could work past jamming and disguises its own signature so that others couldn't find it to tap it. Trip had the other one. She activated it.

"Hey Trip." Skye said quite casually, as though she were just talking on the phone to a friend. They had devised a very casual code that would not sound like an S.O.S. call that would lead a very lucky Hydra hacker right to their hiding spot.

"Hey! What's up Mary?"

"Oh, nothing much, I was just wondering when I was going to see you next?"

"Me and June were just discussing that the other day! We think we can see you guys before the month is up. How have you guys been, since we've seen you two?"

"I've been fine but A.C. has seen better days, not feeling well at all. Well I'll let you go, because I've got things to do today."

"K, we'll see you as soon as we can."

She put the device back in her pocket. She sighed. Less than a month meant closer to an entire day in their loose code.

"I hate that code you and Trip worked out, it takes too long to say what you need to." Coulson said from between her knees.

In the darkness, her eyes had adjusted and she could sort of make out Coulson's body from the surrounding darkness. She still jumped a little at his voice; he had been silent so long that she had thought he had gone to sleep or passed out. She had been checking his bandages every half hour or so, and so far he hadn't bleed through, but she was going to have to change them in the next couple of hours or so, to avoid infection and the wound sticking to the dressings. She reached over him now to move her hand over the bandage to check for seepage, and answered him.

" I will take that into consideration, sir." Skye said with a little bit of cheek in her tone.

"I'm serious, you could have said, we are locked up in a closet, Coulson got shot, come a.s.a.p., and been done. Instead you have to be on there forever, likening the chance that someone could be listening. "

"Well, sir, we weren't on that long, and if someone was listening, they wouldn't have any idea who was talking or what they were talking about. But seriously, I will look into it when we get back."

She felt him shift against her legs and she realized how long she had been sitting there, she doubted she could feel her own legs, they must be close to dead by now. Absently, she began to stroke her hands down the sides of his face, partly to comfort him and partly to calm him down. He moved his head back so that the top of his head was nearly touching her stomach, presumably to get a look at her face to see what she was doing. He slowly lowered his chin back down when the light wouldn't let him see her clearly. She continued to stroke his face with her fingertips, from his brow line to his chin, over and over again.

Over the course of the next hour, she varied her strokes, sometimes brushing over his forehead, sometimes under his chin, other times passing through his hair, or scratching down his neck. It kept her occupied and him calm and it was enough for her to continue.

"Why don't you go to sleep?" She asked him softly.

"Then I wouldn't be able to feel the wonderful things you are doing." He answered just as softly.

"Still, it will only help you heal, gather your strength, that sort of thing."

He was just about to answer when a noise sounded in the room outside of the closet. With deadly concentration, Skye swung her hands down from his face and in one motion, grabbed an I.C.E.R. from her right hip and a real gun from her left hip and aimed the I.C.E.R. at the door, resting the gun upon his chest, until she needed it, or if she was hit, he could use it. Trip had taught her well, she made not one sound and sat still as can be, not even breathing as she waited for that door to burst open. Minutes passed, and Skye took very shallow breaths from time to time, but other than that, did not move.

Another sound finally sounded, but it seemed as if it were in the hallway on the other side of the room, far away from them. Still she didn't move. After thirty minutes, she conceded that it must have been whomever it was leaving the room, possibly still searching for them, or a coincidence, that they were grabbing something they needed from the abandoned room. She holstered both the I.C.E.R. and the gun and returned her hands to his head.

"I hate to bring this up, but I need to use the restroom." Coulson said in a voice that obviously expressed his displeasure with the necessity of having to ask her for help with this task.

With the same displeasure in her voice, she asked, ""What do you need to do? A number one or a number two?"

"Number one." The 'thank, God', was implied, but Skye heard it all the same. Her legs were more than just numb but she powered through, making them move even though she truly could not feel them. She gently raised his head up and slipped out from under him, and lowered his head and her coat to the ground and then riffled through the trashcan in the corner, by the door, with her phone's flashlight. She didn't have to look long till she found one of those wide mouthed, Gatorade-type bottles, complete with lid and empty. She made her way back to him and handed him the bottle. Turning off the flashlight, she stood before him and could hear him unzip his pants and rustle around a little and then she heard a painful grunt and a sigh come from him. The familiar pins-and-needles feeling was starting to spill all over her legs. She hopped a little to try to alleviate the pain.

"Skye, can you prop me up or something? It hurts too much to curl up enough to make this effective."

Skye could imagine that trying to use your stomach muscles to sit up enough to pee into a plastic container while keeping your balance and not spilling piss everywhere, and making you feel just short of screaming in pain and frustration was not a good option. She went back on the ground, behind him, and sat so that her back was firmly against the wall and her legs veed around his head, then she lifted his shoulders up and lay them over her legs as she slipped her toes under his back and manipulated him so that he was fully lying across her legs, and they were propping him up in the air.

"Better?" She asked.

"Yes." He said simply, and proceeded to take care of his business. When he was finished he put the lid on the container and zipped up, but didn't bother to button up, the tightness of buttoning up his pants was starting to bother him, probably too much swelling around the area.

She gave him a minute and then slowly brought him back down to the position they had been in before, with her crossed legs and his head resting in between. She also went back to stroking his face, now with the back of her fingertips.

Hours went by and he did fall asleep, only to awaken in a fright about two hours later.

When he came to, he was surrounded by Skye, her arms and body had almost enveloped his upper body in an effort to give him comfort, and to keep him still. She was bent over him from the back, legs still crossed under him, and her lips were near his ear, whispering, 'come back', 'its just a nightmare', and 'it will all be alright'. Her right arm was around him, in almost a hug, going down his undershirt, and had her hand resting over his scar, directly over his heart. Her other hand was cupping his jaw and neck, he figured to keep him still, and not have his head hit hers. She had him in a firm grip and once she realized he was awake, relaxed her hands to stroke instead of restrain.

"Are you ok?" She asked. "Your heart rate was all over the place and you were thrashing and yelling."

He nodded once against the hand that still held him loosely, and the side of his face brushed against hers. She moved in a way that signaled to him she was going to move out of his space. His hands came up faster than he thought possible, and gripped her arms, holding them into place.

"Please, don't move." He begged, he never begs, but Skye would never hold it against him. "Not yet."

She instead moved so that she was embracing him with both arms, her right still over the scar, her fingertips tracing the ridges absentmindedly. Her face pressed against the side of his face and she could feel wetness there, either left by tears or sweat.

Minutes went by and Skye held onto Coulson, even though her back ached and her knees popped. Finally, he indicated that she could sit back up, probably realizing the discomfort she was in. She sat fully up and stretched up against the wall, grunting as her back popped into place. Then she resumed stroking his face.

"What would I have to pay you to sit behind me everyday and do that for the rest of my life?" Coulson wondered out loud, truly enjoying the attention, and only half kidding.

"Oh, A.C., you wouldn't have to pay me anything."

The sincerity stopped him short; he could tell that Skye was not kidding, at all. She was quite earnest and meant it. If he needed her to do this she would, and not because he was director and she was second, but because Skye wanted to do it for him, because she _trusted_ him so much, even possibly _loved _him so much. Coulson knew that Skye loved him; hell she loved the whole team. They were a family of sorts. He didn't know it was this deep though. He knew she would jump in front of a bullet for him, rescue him from death's door, and even put up with the daily crap that was S.H.E.I.L.D. since the fall, but he didn't know really what it meant till now. He was so struck dumb by the revelation, and by the almost heady feeling at being loved like that was doing to him, because if he weren't already in love with Skye, it wouldn't take much to push him over at this point.

He was about to reply when he heard footsteps outside the door. He froze and Skye grabbed her weapons again, and assumed the same stance as earlier.

From outside the door a man called softly through the storage door, "I think I Tripped back there on nothing."

Skye called back through the door, "Then you should watch where you are going."

"Skye? How is the director?"

"He needs Simmons, let me get the door open."

Skye handed Coulson the gun and still held her I.C.E.R., and unlocked and then opened the door, holding the device in front of her to sweep the area before letting Tripp into the closet. Tripp and May were the only ones on the other side and Skye flipped on the light so that the other two could assess the situation.

"I stayed in blackout, to allude anybody who happened by." Skye said unnecessarily.

May grabbed her arm, to convey that she had done a good job, as Tripp went inside to help a blinking Coulson. May had a collapsible stretcher in her hands and they loaded up Coulson on it, who insisted he could walk if he had to, he had crawled through hundreds of feet of duct work and made it into the closet. May ignored him and grabbed the end by the feet, while Tripp grabbed the end at the head. Skye grabbed his coat, her coat, the Gatorade bottle (if Hydra did experiments on it, who knows what they would find), and any other things that might carry DNA or fingerprints, and put it all in that empty box she had used. She followed them out the door and to the rendezvous site.


End file.
